


The Mice Collection

by thebigpalooka



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Cartoons (Classic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Humor, One Shot, One Word Prompts, Romance, little hurt mostly comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebigpalooka/pseuds/thebigpalooka
Summary: A collection of Mickey and Minnie scenes and tiny stories, mostly sweet, bite-sized little pieces in all kinds of flavors.
Relationships: Mickey Mouse/Minnie Mouse
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	1. Introduction

This is a collection of ficlets, one-shots, prompts and individual scenes I’ve jotted down over the years. A lot of them are silly, a lot of them are sentimental, probably all of them are mushy, and every single one, I wrote only because I wanted to and for no other reason.

Many of these stories were inspired by, or take place in settings created by or with my best friend. I love her so much and I’m so grateful for all the happy make-believe she’s shared with me for a long long time.

There are a lot of other talented Disney fans whose work has inspired me too, and I know they’ll inspire many others through the years.

Most of these little stories stand alone, but some may share a universe. At the beginning of each chapter of this work, you’ll find my notes on what kind of a world each one takes place in, and if they’re part of any larger story or cluster of thoughts, a few notes on where they fit in.

That’s all. I hope you enjoy them.


	2. Festival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was written as a one-word prompt. The setting is Country Mice, living in a sleepy little down-home country town around the turn of a previous make-believe century or so.

Minnie leaned forward out of her booth, trying to see all the way down to the end of the pasture, but there were too many folks around. It seemed like the whole town had turned out for the apple festival - the whole town minus one person. She sat back again, feeling defeated. 

Honestly, she had no right to feel badly. The festival had been going well so far, and Minnie’s little booth had made out just fine. She’d been baking up a storm all week in anticipation of selling her wares, and so far she’d sold out of apple jam, apple fritters, turnovers, tarts and was getting low on her homemade sauce too. And the pies! She’d sold those by the slice, mostly, and even having made what felt like endless stacks of them, still the folks had eaten them up. All but one, that is - one especially luscious pie that, even now, was still sitting in the case. Minnie had been saving that one for someone in particular, but … 

“I hate him,” Minnie breathed bitterly. “I hate all men.”

She didn’t really, of course, at least not for more than a second or two. It had all been his fault, that’s what Minnie thought. Or she thought it in between the times when she felt that it was all her own fault, and thus felt overwhelming despair. It had started last week when Minnie’d been busily picking the apples she’d need to make all her goodies for sale at the festival. He’d been there, like usual, ostensibly to help her pick, and he’d promised to carry the apples home for her, but just as often as he was ‘helping’, he was lounging around and making a nuisance of himself, wearing those outrageous overalls with the patches in them and that shirt with a missing button, chewing on a piece of straw and grinning idiotically every time she scolded him for laying down in the grass when he was supposed to be helping her.

“Aw, I’ll make sure ya got plenty. Quit worryin’ about it. Anyhow ya can’t cook ‘em all at once, anyhow. C’mon, Minnie,” he’d sat up then, looking up at her with those dark blue eyes of his. “Let’s take a break, huh? How about you an’ me go down an’ sit a spell by the big willow, huh? Where it’s nice an’ quiet?”

Minnie knew what that meant. It meant she wouldn’t get another thing done all day. She shook her head firmly. “Nuh uh! I’m not going within a _mile_ of the big willow until after the apple festival!”

“Aw, but Minnie….”

“No buts about it!” She whirled on him, settling her hands on her hips. “Now you see here, Mickey Mouse! Do you suppose I mean to turn up at the apple festival with - with - with a couple of half-empty pie shells and a few hollow fritters? Make a fool of myself? This festival is the most important thing going yet this whole year and I’m going to make a good showing!”

“Gee whiz.” Mickey spit out the straw he’d been sucking on, looking a little put out. “I don’t know why you gotta be such a wet blanket about it. I was just wanting to have a little fun.”

“That’s all you ever want to do.” Minnie had turned back to her apple picking. She was hot and tired and cross, already worn out just thinking of all the work ahead of her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what it sounds like!” Minnie popped out from behind the tree and dumped a few apples into her basket. “You’re just a - a loafer is what you are! A loafer!”

“Oh yeah? Oh, yeah?” Mickey leaped to his feet, but didn’t seem to know what to do with himself when he got there, so he just shifted from one foot to the other for a moment before jamming his hands in his pockets. “Well, if that’s th’way ya feel about it, then - then - you ken just keep yer old apple festival! Bah!” He made a dismissive and - to Minnie’s mind - rude gesture and turned sharply away. Although, a moment later, he returned and snatched up the full basket of apples. “I’ll drop ‘em off on yer porch,” he all but snapped. “But then ya won’t see _me_ again for a while! Good-BYE!”

Off he’d gone, and, sure enough, Minnie hadn’t seen him since. Usually when she was baking, she couldn’t seem to get rid of him. He’d wander in midmorning and find some reason to stick around all day long, sampling things and taste-testing things and … and other things too. But not this time.

Oh, it was all very vexing and it was nonsense. He was just being stubborn. He didn’t have any reason to act so foolish just because she’d said … just because she’d said … such horrible things to him. Oh! Minnie felt as though she might cry. If only Mickey were here right now. She wished - 

A few different things happened next, all very quickly. Just as Minnie was wishing her hardest that Mickey would appear, she looked up from wringing her hands and found that her wish was granted, because he was walking up to the booth at that very moment. She opened her mouth, but a third voice interrupted before either of them could say a word.

“Ah, Miss Minnie Mouse!”

It was Mayor Oinkly, a jovial, rotund chap, and Minnie felt a little stab of dismay. The mayor was a friendly fellow, but he could be a little … longwinded. He rested his bulk on the front of her booth comfortably and beamed at her. It was not an overly warm day, but he produced a handkerchief and passed it across his forehead just the same. “How is our finest little apple blossom? Your dee-licious baked goods are always a credit to our humble festival,” he praised her. Minnie flushed. 

“Er - thank you, Mayor Oinkly. It’s been just fine,” she said politely, trying desperately to see if Mickey was even still there. The Mayor winked.

“And I see there’s still one apple pie left! My, my, I am surprised, but I’ll consider it my own good fortune to buy it.”

“O-oh, but….” Minnie’s flush deepened. “Th-thank you, sir, but … that is … I - I was saving it for someone, but….”

“Eh? Saving it?” The Mayor blinked curiously. Minnie froze, unsure how to explain, but she was saved when a loud throat clearing finally alerted the mayor to Mickey’s presence. He turned, caught sight of the young mouse, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, why, young Mouse! A pleasure to bump into you. You know our Miss Minnie, of course. I was just speaking to her about one of her pies. Says she’s holding it for someone. Have you ever tasted one of her apple pies? Scrumptious! Boy like you must have a good appetite too. Why, Miss Minnie, you should’ve seen this young man assisting in the construction of our new prize pavilion! I never saw such raw, youthful energy in my life! A credit to our town, my boy, a credit to our apple festival.”

“Oh - th-thank you, sir,” said Mickey, finally managing to get a word in edgewise. “A-actually, I was just about t-”

“Of course, of course, I - oh!” The Mayor’s attention was caught at last, and he lifted his hat to someone. “Please excuse me, I must attend to - yes, hello, hello!” He toddled away, and the two mice were alone together at last. Minnie’s heart was pounding a little, but she sat quietly a moment, looking at Mickey. His hands were bandaged up - she thought she could see a couple busted up spots where he must’ve had some mishaps with the hammer and nails. She lowered her chin to her chest.

Mickey cleared his throat. “So, uh … been goin’ pretty good, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

“Sold lotsa pies an’ things, I guess.”

“Yes, quite a lot.”

“Oh.” Mickey stuck his hands in his pockets, gaze drifting over the display until it landed on that big, gorgeous pie in the case behind her. He jabbed his chin that way. “...Savin’ that one for somebody?”

“Oh, no!” Minnie leaned forward. “That is - only temporarily. That is, if somebody wanted to buy it - or … or if somebody wanted to try it… then...then… oh, Mickey!”

She couldn’t go on, but she didn’t have to. Mickey was far more of a man than that. He braced one hand on the counter and a moment later he’d slid over the top of the booth and landed on the other side. Minnie was in his arms in a moment, kissing his face all over, talking in between each kiss. And Mickey was kissing her back, as warmly and eagerly as ever he had done.

“I’m sorry - never really meant any of it - shouldn’t have been so cross - never want to quarrel again - missed you so terribly -”

When Mickey finally managed to free himself, laughing and dizzy, he stumbled back onto the stool Minnie’d been seated on and drew her right up into his lap, squeezing her close while she clung to his neck. “Aw, that’s all right. Guess I was an awful pest before, but it’s fine now, ain’t it?”

“Oh, yes!” Minnie kissed him again, right on his mouth. “It was all my fault, but - oh, Mickey, you’re wonderful! Helping to build the pavilion and - oh!” She sat up to look at him. “...Don’t you want… a piece of apple pie?” she suggested, a little coyly. Mickey looked up at her keenly, and then his blue eyes sparkled a little.

“Er … I might. That is … I wouldn’t mind tryin’ a piece … down by that ol’ willow tree?”

Minnie lowered her eyes, resting them just a moment on his smirking lips. They’d taste even better when that mouth was smeared with sugar and cinnamon, Minnie just knew it. Sweet and sticky... down by the willow tree, where it was nice and quiet. She smiled.


	3. Moving Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newlywed Mice. Could easily take place in my Detective!Verse, a 40s inspired setting where Mickey's a newly married young gumshoe, but I was actually thinking of the movie 'Barefoot in the Park' when I wrote this. Either way <3

It wasn’t the biggest apartment in the world, certainly, but it was ...cozy. And of course, it would all be much homier once it had some furniture in it. And some heat. Minnie rubbed her hands together. Silly, of course, moving this time of year, but that part couldn’t be helped. Anyway, it wouldn’t have been any fun to move in the summertime when the sun was blazing down on you either.

Mickey appeared in the doorway then, rubbing his neck and looking flushed and hot in spite of the cool temperature. Minnie pounced on him.

“There you are! I thought you’d forgotten the number. Are the men here with the furniture yet?”

“Naw, they just rang up. Some sorta problem with the truck. They said it might not get here til tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Minnie looked aghast. “But...but where will we sleep?”

“I dunno, but it ain’t gonna be on th’bed, because that’s on the truck - an’ it ain’t gonna be on the sofa, ‘cause that’s on the truck too!” Mickey jammed his hands in his pockets and looked disgusted. “It’s a fine way ta run a business, that’s what I say. Puttin’ folks in a fix like this.” 

Minnie touched a hand to her cheek, turning to look mournfully back at the now hopelessly-barren looking apartment. “I suppose we couldn’t go to a hotel. It’d be awfully expensive, wouldn’t it?”

“Bank ain’t open tomorrow. Haveta wait til the day after.”

“That won’t do at all, I’ve got to have money for groceries - although goodness knows I haven’t anywhere to put them without the icebox. Oh, dear!” 

She sat down on a convenient box and clasped her hands between her knees, looking and feeling very discouraged. Mickey watched her with troubled eyes. He felt rotten about the whole thing, and personally responsible somehow, like he should’ve been down there fixing that truck himself, if that’s what it took. Some way to treat his brand new bride, condemning her to sleeping on the cold hard floor. If he was half a man, he’d have her in silk sheets too, instead of plain cotton ones. He was reflecting on how much of a chump and a toadstool he was when Minnie lifted her head.

“We’ll have to make do somehow, I suppose, but … oh, Mickey, you’ve been working so hard on the apartment too - your poor back, you must be so tired. I wonder if you could sleep with your head in my lap. That’d be better than the floor, at least, wouldn’t it?”

He stared at her a moment, speechless. A fine picture that would make, him snoring away all night with his head nestled in Minnie’s lap while she sat propped up against the wall, no doubt, shivering in the cold. She was already looking toward her little kitchen again, sadly shaking her head.

“...And I don’t know how I’ll ever manage to cook you a proper dinner - or serve it without the table and chairs….”

Mickey gaped at her a moment more before he leaned back against the wall and started to laugh. Minnie looked up at him, startled. “What’s so funny?”

“Ya … you are,” he managed at last, finally catching his breath. He shook his head and went over to her, pulling her to her feet and swinging her hands in his. “...Lissen to yerself. An’ heck - lissen to me. Whingin’ an’ moanin’ while yer worryin’ yerself about makin’ me supper an’ whether I’ll snore yer ear off all night proper or not. I’m th’ one who’s supposed to be pamperin’  _ you _ , didja forget?”

“Oh, Mickey, it’s not like that at all,” Minnie protested, even though she couldn’t help leaning closer to him. He shrugged.

“I’ll say it’s not, but it oughta be! Well, I ain’t gonna let a little thing like no furniture spoil  _ my  _ mood. I’ve just married the best, sweetest,  _ prettiest  _ bride in th’whole world!”

“Mickey!” She giggled in spite of herself, threading her arms around his waist to cuddle up to him. He swung her to and fro in his embrace.

“Yep, an’ we’ll spare no expense! ...Providin’ we save enough money fer the groceries, of course. But we can darn well spare enough fer supper, so I’m takin’ you out tonight! Out! Why, we’ll feast on th’ finest hamburgers with onions that money can buy!”

“Oh! Why, Mickey, we _ are _ living high off the hog,” Minnie laughed.

“Darn right we are! Might even have milkshakes.”

“And after that - oh! Why, we have all the sheets and pillows and things. We can

unpack those and make a little nest right in the living room. Why, we’ll have a camping party.”

“Now yer talkin’! Start up that furnace and roast marshmallows in it.”

Minnie thought perhaps this wasn’t the best idea, but she wasn’t going to try and talk him out of anything just now. She nuzzled his cheek. “And… I’m sure if we put our heads together and think real hard...we can think up lots of ways to keep each other warm tonight - won’t we?”

Mickey looked at her slowly, and a grin spread itself lopsidedly over his face. He bent slowly and scooped her up into his arms completely, like a princess. “...I’ll say we will,” he promised. “I think I’ve got some good ones already. How about I whisper ‘em to ya while we get our coats on?”

“Ohhh…” Minnie hummed approvingly as he carried her slowly out of the room. 


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could happen in any setting where Mickey has to go away for a long time. It could probably be Kingdom Hearts (although I've never actually played it). It could also be what you'll see me call "Magicverse" where the mice rule a magical kingdom called Fantasia. It isn't specifically either, so you can make up whatever suits you best. 
> 
> None of the works in this collection are explicit, but some, like this one, suggest that sex does *exist* so if that doesn't sit well with you, you can skip this one.

He was still fast asleep. The sun was high in the sky by now, but Minnie wasn’t worried about that; in fact, she was glad, because as the warm morning light streamed in through the window, it made it easier to trace his features with her eyes, over and over again, as if she were searching for any subtle changes she might’ve missed before. And of course, he was just the same each time, and of course, she kept on studying him just as closely, each curve and line, each feature and form. He looked so relaxed and peaceful, and Minnie couldn’t stop thinking about how different it was from how he’d looked at her back then - before he’d gone away. His brow furrowed in worry and pain, uncertain about what was to come - or when he would see her again. Watching him go had hurt her more than anything she could remember, not least because of how much she knew it had hurt him. If it were possible, he would’ve been by her side always - but she was the only one who could protect their home if he was gone, and he’d had to go.

Minnie closed her eyes; even now, it was painful to think about. All those long, lonely nights and agonizing days, never knowing when she’d see him again - or whether she ever would. But it was over now. That was why she could compare it, the way he’d looked then and the way he looked now. She wondered if those worried lines of her own had dissolved as easily as his had. Well, even if she was a little more wrinkly, he hadn’t seemed to mind, Minnie reflected with a little smile, indulging herself in feeling the glow of last night all over again. One more reason to let him sleep, then.

Oh, and he was so, so beautiful. She fought the urge to crush herself against him right then, biting her lip instead, making another trip over him with her gaze. His dark chest rose and fell slowly, the wrinkled shirt he’d never made it completely into - or out of, she couldn’t recall - almost slipping from his shoulders. One hand was draped across the pillow, the other thrown with equal carelessness across his hip, and he looked so unguarded and vulnerable, so trusting that she wanted to kiss him for that too. She knew how he must’ve slept all those nights she was curled up in a cold ball in this same bed - curled up himself somewhere, or half-upright with his arms crossed over his chest, even colder than she was, never really able to relax completely. Was this the first really deep night’s sleep he’d had since he’d gone, like it was for Minnie?

His lips were parted just a little, and every once in a while, he’d stir and sigh faintly, before falling still again. Sometimes his ears would twitch a little in the process, and Minnie could scarcely control herself at all. Once, he turned his head to his shoulder and drew in a deep breath before relaxing again with a little comfortable moan, and Minnie had to squeeze her eyes shut to force back a squeal of delight. Then she had to say a little silent prayer of gratitude for waking up soon enough to witness these delights.

He’d been dreaming a while ago, or so she thought; now his eyes seemed heavier, not restless, and as much as she longed for that blue gaze to meet with her own, there was heaven enough in the curve of his ears, his jaw, his mouth, his shoulders, his chest - his hands. 

She wondered if it was a little bit wicked to feel so lustful at the same time you felt so protective, if there was something profane in seeing the divine and wanting to put your hands all over it. But she dismissed these thoughts quickly. A love like this one could only be sacred.

She brushed her hair back, tucked it behind her ear. He was very quiet now; earlier he’d been snoring faintly, and she’d adored the sound of it too. Everything about him, every sign of her Mickey home and safe, was wanted and loved. There was plenty she didn’t yet know, but he’d told her enough, listened to her enough, that there could be little mystery in what he’d thought and felt all these weeks and months. He’d been afraid, just like she had. Somehow, she hadn’t thought of that until he’d admitted it, and then it had seemed obvious. Maybe it had been strange to him too, that she’d been so afraid. But that was the fearful part all along, being apart from each other. Now it didn’t seem possible to be afraid of anything.

The sun painted bands of warm light across his dark chest, and he stirred. Minnie wondered if she should close the drapes further or let the sun touch his face to wake him that way, when Mickey resolved the question on his own by opening his eyes. She watched him study the canopy over them for a moment, as if he was pondering everything and nothing at once, and then he turned a heavy, sleepy gaze her way.

“...Min,” he greeted her in a soft mumble, too freshly awakened even to move, but that was all the more delightful. Minnie broke into a smile so warm that it rivaled the sunlight falling on his chest. She tucked her hair back again with one hand, and like that she bent to kiss him, deeply, feeling him take in a surprised breath and then relax again, sinking back against the pillow as quickly as he’d started to lift his head. “Mmm…” he purred, and she felt it rumble in his chest. When she drew back, his warm lips clinging to hers, he looked up at her, and she had the lovely feeling that he was deciding whether he was awake or still dreaming.

“...I thought you might sleep all day. I’m glad you finally decided to join me,” she murmured back to him, resolving the question, reaching to trace her fingertips down his brow, to his cheek, and finally into a spiral on his chest. He tensed, which forced him to stretch, and she enjoyed that too until he looked up at her again, quirking a brow, awake enough now to sense the mischief in her voice.

“Oh? Was I oversleepin’ somethin’ important?”

He drew his arms lazily about her hips as she shifted to rest against his side, twisting to look down over him. “Nooo, not exactly. Actually, I was kind of enjoying myself. Watching you.”

“Watchin’ me, huh?” He squinted one eye. “...Well, I can’t say I see th’ appeal, but I’m glad ya had a nice time. Sorry for makin’ ya wait tho.” His hands ran up and down her bare arms. “Seems t’me like you’ve spent enough time waitin’ already.”

“Yes. But I didn’t mind this kind.”

They looked at each other for a moment in silence, just the way Minnie had imagined. Searching each other’s eyes, saying things you couldn’t say any other way than in silence. Then, slowly, Mickey lifted his head, and she let her lips part to meet his kiss. He took his time too, kissed her deeply, searchingly. Last night, they’d shared kisses that were like fire, consuming and hungry and ravenous. This kiss felt like the embers of that same fire; not cooled or dying, but searing and slow, in no hurry to get anywhere at all, aglow from within. When his head fell back again, she realized she felt dizzy herself, blinking dazedly as she felt his fingers cup her cheek.

“...I love you,” she told him helplessly, as if he’d drawn the words from her and to hold them back was impossible. But really, it wasn’t that way at all. She wanted to say them, wanted to bury them in his heart, wanted to imprint them across his body with her own hands, touching him everywhere with them. Her forehead fell against his as one of his hands found her waist.

“I love you, too.” His lips brushed the curve of her jaw and she shivered. “...I missed you so much. I … I still can hardly believe -”

“Me too.” She captured his hand and kissed it. He chuckled.

“...But I’m startin’ to get kinda used to it,” he concluded. “An’ I think I could get REAL used to it, awful quick.”

He scooped her up into his arms and as he rolled them both over entirely, wrapping her into a close embrace, her giggles were soon lost into warm little sighs.


	5. Drummer Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short prompt loosely inspired by the Soundsational Parade at Disneyland.

It was a wonder she saw him there at all, really, since he was by far the shortest of all the drummers in the formation. That’s probably why they’d put him in the back, so he wouldn’t ruin the perfectly nice silhouette formed by all the other guys who were taller than him, all the same size. But he could certainly play just as well as any of them, and Minnie watched his wrists flick the drumsticks effortlessly, watched him spin and toss one of them up in the air as if it were the easiest thing in the world, reaching behind his back to catch it and toss it back against the drum without ever falling out of rhythm. 

And of course, she noticed him, didn’t understand how you could look anywhere else but at him. His forehead was damp with sweat in the summer sun, and although Minnie had never considered sweatiness an appealing feature before, somehow it made her feel … something.

She felt it more, every time she watched him, every performance, every day for three weeks. But summers don’t last forever, much as we might want them to. There would be no more performances, the drummers would move on to their next gig, and he would walk out of her life forever, unless she could think of some way to make him see her -  _ notice  _ her - before it was too late. She’d tried before, but of course, it was a lot to ask, thinking that somebody as wonderful as him could be bothered with a nobody like her, selling popcorn and cookies and handing out guidemaps. But she had to try, or she’d regret it all her life.

She’d planned it so carefully - and in the end, planned it too well. She only meant to emerge from around the corner as he was following the rest of the troupe backstage, to pull up short in front of him as if it was a mistake, act startled, apologize for getting in his way. And then, just as he shrugged, mumbled that it was no big deal, brushed past her to leave, she would call after him that she thought he - that all of them - had done a really swell job playing this summer. And he’d stop and look back at her, not really interested - she didn’t expect that - but flattered, a little bit, because even coming from her, everybody likes a compliment. And she would hurry to say something else, something clever - only she still hadn’t quite thought of what that would be, even as she rushed to get there in time, so that when he came backstage - 

But the other boys were already filing past. What if she’d missed him? Minnie darted forward in a panic, and her timing was both perfect and totally wrong.

They collided, making a comical sound because of the drum that was still slung over his hip. Guidebooks and receipt stubs flew everywhere, and she would’ve fallen except that she felt his hands catch her arms as both of them stumbled, and he held her steadily. Minnie was so ashamed, she hardly knew what to do, was still staring at him with wide eyes, an open mouth, and quickly flushing cheeks, even as he looked her full in the face for the very first time.

And he was about to speak, and she winced within herself, knowing the first and probably last thing she would hear him say would be a remark on her clumsiness, and she would deserve it. And his voice was so nice, because she’d heard him laugh before - maybe now he would laugh at her -

“It… it’s  _ you _ !” he burst out. Minnie closed her eyes a moment, but when she realized what he’d said, she opened them again, confused. And as she watched, his blue eyes went even wider, and he stepped back. “I mean… g-gosh, yer papers….”

He dropped to start picking them up, mumbling something she couldn’t hear, but in that moment, when time seemed to slow down, Minnie kept hearing those words, turning them over in her mind.

_ It’s you! _

She’d felt just the same way. Why? Because she’d been watching him all summer, that was why, waiting for a chance to talk to him, hoping he’d look her way right when she was looking his. But … was it possible….?

He was rising to his feet again, holding out a handful of guidebooks, stammering again. She reached out automatically to take them. Her hands touched his.

And suddenly, Minnie was smiling. His eyelids fluttered like the smile struck him physically.

  
Then, the next thing Minnie knew, he was smiling  _ back _ .


	6. Swimmin' Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet is one of my personal favourites and I hope you like it too. The setting is Country Mice, living in a sleepy little down-home country town around the turn of a previous make-believe century or so.
> 
> None of the works in this collection are explicit, but some, like this one, suggest that sex does *exist* so if that doesn't sit well with you, you can skip this one.

It was as heavy and sticky as syrup that day, and the heat still lingered even after the sun had gone down. There were cicadas and crickets humming in the woods, undeterred, but everywhere else, the world was quiet and drowsy.

All except for two young mice following the lazy creek down to where it dripped out into a lovely little swimming hole, just past the edge of the woods.

“Aw, gee, Mickey,” said his female companion, a little pathetically. “...My dress is already sticking to me and we haven’t even been in the water. It’s too hot for a swim tonight.”

“Too hot for swimmin’?!” Mickey repeated incredulously. “Heck, Min, swimmin’s the only thing it  _ ain’t _ too hot for! I’ll be darned if I’m gonna sit around on the porch fannin’ myself like an old woman. Besides, I’ll bet that water’s nice an’ cool.”

Minnie had more charitable views towards sitting on the porch fanning oneself, but that talk about nice, cool water was pretty hard to resist. Anyway, they were almost there, so it didn’t make much sense to turn around now.

Mickey led the way holding Minnie by the hand. It wasn’t as though she didn’t know where they were headed, but it was quite dark by now, especially once they were amongst the trees. By the time they reached the swimming hole, Minnie thought it was a little late at night for the whole endeavor, except she knew that if she were home in bed, she wouldn’t be sleeping at all, just laying there sweating. So she was glad enough to see the inviting shimmer of moonlight on the water, and sat right down on the bank to dangle her feet down into the cool wet, even splash some on her face. She was so engrossed in this, that for a moment, she didn’t pay any mind to Mickey, until she felt him brush past her. Then she looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of his dark form in the moonlight.

_ All  _ of his dark form.

Before she could do more than gape, he’d jumped into the swimming hole with a splash. He surfaced a moment later, shaking water from his ears and paddling to stay afloat. “...C’mon in - it’s nice!” he spluttered, before noticing the chiding squint she was fixing him with. “...What?” he asked innocently.

“Mickey!” She put her hands on her hips. “Are you - are you -  _ skinny-dippin _ ’?”

His eyes got wide for a minute, and then his face broke into a beaming smile as pure and innocent as a baby’s. “ _ Me _ ? Why - why - why -” The grin got coy, like a cat that had cream in its whiskers. “...Well, now, how else are we supposed to go swimmin’ on a night like this? Ain’t any good swimmin’ in your underwear, it’ll never dry. It’s just practical, that’s all.”

“Practical! Am I to understand you mean me to go in skinny-dippin’ with you?”

“I was sorta thinkin’ you might,” Mickey returned placidly. Minnie got to her feet.

“Well! I never - that’s - yer a positive sinner!”

“A sinner?”

“That’s what I said! You just want to peep at me, that’s all!”

“Well….” He frog-kicked a bit closer to the shore. Minnie stepped away, averting her gaze. “Well, golly, Min, I don’t see how that ken be a sin.”

“Oh, no? I suppose you mightn’t. You haven’t darkened the door of the churchhouse since the weather’s been fine most Sundays, have you?”

He grinned again. “Well, mebbe I been sick a few Sundays, but that don’t matter, does it? Ain’t Preacher Bullmouth always sayin’ how the good lord’s handiwork is found in all creation.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Mickey’s eyes traveled the same path as the sun, all the way from the east horizon to the west. He was smiling again, that smile that irked Minnie the most. “Wellll… if we’re all the good lord’s creation, then I don’t see how it ken be a sin, admirin’ his handiwork.”

Minnie drew in a gasp. “Mickey Mouse! It’s a wonder you don’t get struck with lightning!”

“Aw, gosh.” He giggled, too bright and bubbly to be a full-throated laugh, but then he pulled himself up to rest his arms on the bank beside her, blue eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “...Come for a swim with me,” he murmured, in a much lower tone. Minnie’d heard it before, and was half-ashamed, half-elated at the way it made her heart thud against her ribs. “...Please? Everybody knows it’s more fun sinnin’ a little with...with somebody who loves ya.”

Her lips parted, and when he reached out to brush cool, wet fingers against her neck, she shivered.

She undressed and got in as fast as she could. Mickey said he wouldn’t look, but she knew that he did, and she knew she wanted him to, even though, when she got in the water with him, he smiled that smile again.

“An’ th’ lord saw that it was good,” he quoted solemnly. She dunked his head under the water for that.

Later - much later, when the crickets had gone to sleep and the stars had swirled their way around the sky to pass the time, Minnie lay in a tangle of blankets and soft grass, looking up at those stars. The night was still warm, but a cool breeze was blowing, and it raised goosebumps on her skin. Mickey lay sleeping in her arms, his head cuddled on her chest, and as she felt his breath fall softly on her bare skin, she wondered if maybe he wasn’t right after all - if it wasn’t the good lord’s intention all along.


	7. Decorating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I've been working on a longer fic I haven't posted a drabble in a while, but here is a little Halloween-inspired nibble. It's a sort of vanilla setting, could be similar to Mickey Mouse Works or something like that.

“Mickey? Now where in the world have you gotten to...Mickey?”

Minnie opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch It was a sweet little porch, the first real front porch Minnie’d ever had of her own, belonging to their first real little house, hers and Mickey’s. And this was their first Halloween in it, not the most romantic of holidays, true, but one they’d both been looking forward to. Mickey especially had been excited to fix the place up for trick-or-treaters, which was why it was so curious that he was nowhere to be found. She could certainly see his handiwork, however. Vast swathes of fake cobwebs stretched from one end of the porch to the other, encasing their little porch swing and shrouding the entry in mystery and spookiness, no doubt. The front walk was pocked with cardboard tombstones and paper bats and spiders danced along the door itself and across the wall. Minnie surveyed it all for a moment with a faint little smile. Not quite HER idea of a cozy home, but Mickey’d been so excited when he’d come home with all this stuff, she hadn’t had the heart to try and stop him. And it really WAS good and spooky-looking. She shook her head, stepping off the porch to head around towards the drive.

“Mickey! Where are you? I’ve baked the cookies and I want to know if I should use the sprinkles, or -”

As she crossed the front walk, a cold, bony hand landed hard on her shoulder, and Minnie found herself, without warning, staring into a skeletal grinning face. She screamed.

“Minnie!”

She whirled around, only to find herself confronted by Mickey, the front of his shirt covered in blood. She screamed again. Mickey looked delighted.

“Aw, ain’t he spooky? This is my skeleton. Think I’ll call him Homer. Say hiya, Homer.” He wrapped an arm around the skeleton’s waist to reach his bony forearm, which he flapped at Minnie. “Howdy, ma’am,” he intoned in a voice that would’ve been goofy-sounding for anybody, let alone a skeleton. Minnie raised a hand to her still-pounding heart.

“Mickey, what’s all over your shirt?!”

“Huh? Oh. It’s blood - see? Bloohahahaha!” He waggled his fingers at her and grinned, and she realized for the first time he had put a set of vampire fangs into his mouth and was gnashing them at her. She swallowed, lifting a hand to her forehead. A headache seemed to be coming on.

“But - but why are you covered in blood?” she pressed him, and he relaxed into his normal posture at last, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh, that - well, I made sorta a mess with it while I was settin’ up all th’ vampire bats, an’ then I thought mebbe I oughta be a vampire myself, y’know - since I already had th’teeth an’ everythin’. But then I thought I oughta be half-staked already! But - then I thought maybe vampires don’t bleed themselves. I can’t really remember how that works. So maybe I’ll haveta change shirts after all.” 

He stood there, musing, as Minnie let out a slow breath. “Mickey...darling...don’t you think this is all a bit ….”

She paused, and he blinked at her, brow furrowing a little. She coughed. “You know - a bit … much?” she finally finished, gently. He stared at her, utterly blank.

“...How do ya mean?” he asked at last.

“Oh - well - it’s just … it’s awfully...gruesome. Isn’t it?”

“Aw - well - heck, Min, that’s th’ way the kids like it these days! They ain’t scared of just anything, not like when we were kids.”

Fine nostalgic feeling, Minnie thought, for a mouse so aged and world-worn he’d only just learned how to properly tie a tie in the past year or so. Still, he looked so earnest, she couldn’t help smiling. “Mm...maybe so, but … just … I want to make sure they feel welcome. You know - it’s no good making all these lovely treats if the place is too spooky for them to come and get them.”

Mickey grinned again. “Aw, don’t you worry about that. You jus’ take care of the treats an’ I’ll handle the tricks!” He flashed those fangs at her again, but then he bent forward and gave her a vampirey kiss on the cheek. She giggled as the cheap plastic of his fangs brushed her skin and he had to slurp at them noisily to keep them from falling out.

“Well, mister tricks handler, I could use a hand with the treats too, actually. Somebody’s got to help me finish decorating the cookies too.” She was about to rest her hand on his chest but stopped short, and settled for squeezing his arm instead. “And I promise you can make them as spooky as you want, as long as they still taste good.”

“Oh, yeah?” He waggled a brow. “Vell, then … lead the vay, my luscious, vonderful, undead bride.”

“Oh, Mickeyy…”


End file.
